


Proclivities

by valda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Begging, Come Eating, Come Marking, Defiling Someone Else's Property, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Armitage Hux hates Kylo Ren. How he is always in the way. How uncontrollable he is. His stupid, beautiful face. And so Armitage steals Ren's helmet, seeking a peculiar, secret revenge.





	Proclivities

Armitage let out a grunt. Kylo Ren had done it  _again_ , interfered with Armitage’s plans and ruined  _everything_. It seemed to be what he was best at.

And so it served him right. He deserved this. He deserved  _death_ , slow and painful and at Armitage’s hand, but this would do for now.

Armitage imagined the pilfered helmet sitting on the low table before him was Kylo Ren’s upturned face, scowling. No—not scowling. Penitent. Ashamed.

Adoring. Begging.

Armitage shuddered, eyes rolling back as he came. He pumped himself until the hypersensitivity was too much, and then he dropped his cock and opened his eyes.

His come shone against the matte black of the mask. In the low light it was nearly as silvery as the grille around the eye slit.

It wasn’t quite enough. Armitage picked up the helmet and ran his fingers through his come, smearing it down the mask to where Ren’s mouth would be. Where those unfairly red lips would part for him, tongue lapping at his fingers to catch every drop. “Slut,” Armitage told the helmet. Then he massaged his come into the metal as though it were polish.

~

It was only supposed to happen once. Stealing Kylo Ren’s helmet was no easy feat. But imagining Ren on his knees was just so much easier with a visual aid.

Armitage did put a limit on the indulgence—no more than once a week would he make his way to Ren’s chambers and nick the helmet while Ren slept. He wasn’t an animal, after all. He could control himself.

Over time, it seemed to Armitage that Ren’s helmet was starting to look much nicer. Ren really should thank him for all the effort he went through to polish it.

~

Ren had been off-ship on a mission to the Core Worlds for over a month. Armitage was more frustrated than he could remember being in his entire life. It was just like Ren to take his time returning. Just like Ren to interfere with Armitage’s plans again.

He found himself in the hangar bay upon Ren’s return, hands in fists to keep himself from pacing.  _There you are, you brat_ , he thought with no small measure of relief when Ren’s dark form stalked down the ramp of the shuttle.

Ren’s helmet swiveled slowly toward him, and Armitage felt his pants go tight. Soon, soon he would be coming all over that filthy mask.

“Something, General?” Ren asked.

“Nothing at all, Ren. Welcome back.” Armitage turned on his heel, clasped his hands behind his back, and strode out of the hangar, smiling.

~

Armitage crept into Ren’s chambers that very night. It was a risk—the man had just returned and was likely not yet settled back into a routine—but Armitage couldn’t wait. It had been so long.

He was hard as a rock when his fingers came down on Ren’s helmet. He spared a glance to Ren’s sleeping form, stretched out along the slim cot, then picked up the helmet and turned to leave.

“Good evening, General Hux,” Ren said, and he was not in the bed at all—he was looming in the doorway.

“Ren,” Armitage gasped. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the cot was empty. How had he—?

“May I ask what you were planning on doing with my helmet?” Ren asked, darkly.

Armitage swallowed and turned back to face him. Ren’s face was invisible in the dark; he was like a black wraith. “Nothing?” he tried. “I just…wanted to try it on?”

“I see,” Ren said, taking a step forward. “So you weren’t going to take it back to your chambers, place it carefully at the center of your cocktail table, pull out your dick, and jerk off?” Another step forward. “You weren’t going to paint my helmet with your come, and wish it was me?”

Armitage stood his ground, but it was a struggle. His throat was dry as Jakku. “Of all the ridiculous—“ he rasped out—

But then, suddenly, Ren dropped to his knees. Armitage could see his face now, cast pale blue in the light from the door console. “How did you imagine me?” he asked. “Was it like this?” His face was upturned, lips parted, eyes intent.

Armitage felt himself trembling. He clutched the helmet against his body. “Not quite,” he dared. “When I imagine you, you’re begging.”

Ren stared at him for so long Armitage began to wonder if he’d made a fatal error. Then Ren’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Please, General,” Ren said, and Armitage wondered if he was dreaming. “See how you like the real thing.”

“You can do better than that,” Armitage said, wondering if he’d gone mad.

Ren huffed. “General,” he said, “will you please come on my face?”

Dazedly, Armitage fumbled at his fly. “How long have you known?”

“Since the beginning,” Ren said, and Armitage realized there was hunger in his eyes. “I could smell you.”

There had never been time to properly clean the helmet after he was satisfied. He’d liked the idea that Ren would unknowingly wear him. He hadn’t even considered the smell.

“I wanted to taste you,” Ren said. He sounded half angry, half wistful. “Please, General, let me taste you.”

“Fine,” Armitage said, and he pulled out his cock. Ren jerked a bit at the sight but did not move to touch it. “Hmm,” Armitage said. “You’re actually quite good, aren’t you? When you want to be.”

Ren shuddered, letting out a low moan.

Armitage began to slowly pump himself. It wasn’t exactly as he’d imagined it; Ren’s face was a battleground of emotion, fury and longing and desire and disgust warring for control. But it was upturned, presented to him, just like he’d wanted.

He curled the fingers of his free hand in Ren’s hair. “You want my come, Ren?”

“Please,” Ren said, and his voice was softer now. “Please,  _please_ , General, please give me your come.”

A thrill shot through Armitage’s veins. “Open your mouth,” he gasped, and when Ren immediately complied, he came so hard the world went white.

When Armitage came back to himself, dizzy, sated, fingers absently stroking through Ren’s hair, he realized that Ren was nuzzling into his thigh, nose buried in his pubic hair, letting out soft sighs of contentment. “Thank you,” Ren murmured. “Thank you.”

Armitage pulled Ren’s head back gently by the hair, tipping his face up, and bent to taste his lips.


End file.
